Here is the smell of seafood pie

A broken tower on the open sky

A chain of islands rolling west

In sight of the house where we are guests



A rambling old river twists through the fields

Ancient names imprinted on shields

Gifts arrive for a baby girl

Born a queen at the end of the world



Furious music from an open door

The sound of feet beating on a stone floor

Always the wind, always the form

Of an elder god, hooved and horned



The head of the mountain lost in a cloud

A country woman, soft and proud

Into the bay the horses swirl

For we come to the sea at the end of the world


more